


Tip You Over

by Randominity



Series: All These Secret Places [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Internalized Misogyny, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randominity/pseuds/Randominity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I could ride you," he says suddenly, remembering the warmth of her lap beneath him in their cabin on the train.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tip You Over

Louis hadn't meant to do it for long. He'd just meant it for a laugh since, as Dan had pulled his mum down onto his lap in their cabin on the train, he'd turned to Eleanor and said, "both our arses will never fit on that chair. I'm afraid I'll have to borrow you."

"Of course," Eleanor had said, sitting down primly with her legs together and patting her lap.

"You'll let me know if I give you a dead leg," Louis had warned her, trying to keep his weight forward so he could put some of the load on his feet.

"No, you're light," Eleanor had reassured him, holding him back with her hands round his waist.

It had been funny, Louis wiggling and complaining that she was bony, one arse cheek off her thigh and both of his legs between hers. And then after that it becomes practical, with Louis being asked for photographs and having to climb out of the seat so often that it only makes sense for him to be on top.

They have afternoon tea and Louis takes pictures with fans and the sixth time Louis waggles his bum in Eleanor's face before sitting back down over her, Eleanor pushes at his hips. "Budge up a bit, will you?" she says, and Louis braces himself with his hands on the edge of the chair and lifts himself, balancing on them.

He looks back over his shoulder at her. "Thought you said I was light," he says, louder than necessary. "Have you got a dead leg already?"

Eleanor glances down at her lap and then her eyes flicker, Louis can tell, over his arse and up the line of his back. "No, you're fine," she says, then looks at him and smiles thoughtfully. "You're good, you can sit back."

He settles back down, watching her bite her lip, and feels a bit of heat creep into his face, knowing that look. She's no longer meeting his gaze and that's another thing that has him thinking she's planning something, so he swiftly turns around and busies himself with the second half of his open-faced sandwich. If it were anywhere else, if he weren't across from his mum and in a cabin full of strangers who know his face, he'd needle her for information, because he's nothing if not curious. He never seems able to guess at what she wants from him; he likes that, likes that she's as random as he is and constantly surprises him. She always has to tell him what to do in the end, let him know how she needs him to be, and he'd like, someday, to be able to anticipate for _her_ for once, to give her what she wants because he's figured it all out on his own.

*

"What are you planning?" Louis asks her when they get back to the house, letting her go to toe off his trainers and chuck down his things on a path leading to the bedroom. "I know you're thinking of something."

"What makes you think I'm planning anything?" Eleanor asks him, words muffled around the pin she's got between her lips, hands up in her hair as she seeks out others holding up her bun.

"You have a sneaky face," Louis says. "You have a 'I'm gonna make Louis forget how to talk' face."

She raises her eyebrows, smirking, three pins deep. "I have a face?"

"Babe, you're gonna choke on those," Louis tells her, and grabs the pins between his thumb and forefinger. He wrestles them out of her mouth, and she pouts at him, then sticks the fourth pin between her lips like he'd freed the space just for that. "What are you going to do to me?"

Eleanor shakes her head. "It's just an idea," she mutters. 

"You want us to do something," Louis guesses, and she shakes her hair out and takes the pin out of her mouth, setting it down on the bedside table. She takes his hand and pulls him down to sit on the bed next to her. "You want _me_ to do something," he tries.

"You really want to guess at this?" Eleanor asks him, leaning in close until her lips brush his, and he kisses her, hand sliding behind her neck to curl his fingers at the base of her skull. She nips at his lips, chasing his attempts at further kisses, until she has him leaning back on an elbow, his other hand up the front of her top. He pulls it out long enough to flick open her buttons up to her bra, and she unfastens his flies, unzipping as he tilts his hips up. "Tell you what," she says, peeling back his pants until she can get her hand round his cock for a few loose strokes that have him hard in her palm. "You keep guessing, I'll tell you if you're warm, and if you get it right, you get to come."

Louis feels a shiver crawl up his spine at that, a frisson of anticipation at the challenge, and at the easy way Eleanor claims that part of him. He thrusts up into her hand as she wanks him lazily, letting him set the pace at first, then slowing just when he wants her to speed up. He can guess a lot of things. He can guess all night. "You want me to..." Eleanor pushes his foreskin down and he catches his breath. "You want me to dress up," he guesses. "You got all excited on the train and you want me to play porter, and you can be the engineer."

Eleanor hums. "Cold," she says, hand moving slowly over him, with a grip light enough to be distracting, but too light to be good.

"I could be the engineer," Louis suggests. "You can be the tea kettle."

"You're very cold," Eleanor laughs. "The idea of--"

"I could tip you over," he says, "and pour you--"

"I don't want you to dress up," Eleanor says, and buries her face in Louis' shoulder, giggling. She brushes the tips of her fingers over Louis' cock, and it twitches, sputtering pre-come.

"You want--" Louis looks down at her hand. "You want to eat one of them tea sandwiches off my arse," he breathes, and tries to push up against her fingers again, hoping to bump his dick into them accidentally or something.

"You're wrong," Eleanor says, twisting her hand over him, resting her weight on his hip to keep him from bucking too much.

"It's to do with the train, though," Louis says, speaking a bit faster to keep up with his breath. "You thought of it on the train, because of-- because of--"

"Yeah," Eleanor nods. "I got the idea on the train ride."

"You wanna fuck me?" Louis blurts, half an offer instead of a guess, and he must strike a chord because Eleanor's hand tightens around him, her thumb rubbing under the head of his cock. "You wanted my arse to--"

"Warmer," Eleanor prods, speeding up just enough to be maddening.

"You want me to take more," Louis guesses, "you wanna stretch me out, you wanna see what I can--" he shakes his head, mind flooding with the thought of it, of Eleanor opening him up, holding him open, daring him to take whatever she gives him. "Fuck, fuck," he says, riding the rhythm of her hand, flush spreading down his chest, "I'm gonna come, is that it, is that--"

Eleanor opens her hand wide with a "no," and Louis whines in his throat and lets himself fall backward on the bed, unable to stop himself squirming up a bit, away from her, like she actively hurt him instead of just stopped getting him off. She lies down next to him and he curls toward her though he's not ready for her to touch him again, sucking in gulps of air against her chest. "Sweetheart, you were so close," she murmurs, and Louis barks a laugh in disbelief, slaps the sheets between them.

"Like I _fucking_ said," he cries, and then-- "I could ride you," he says suddenly, remembering the warmth of her lap beneath him in their cabin on the train. He crowds her over until she rolls onto her back, and he straddles her hips, his thighs straining against the elastic of his pants. "I could climb on you and sit on your cock," he says, arms trembling as he holds himself up over her. "Is that what-- oh," he says, and his eyes slip closed as Eleanor reaches down for his dick again, curls her fingers tight around him. "I'm-- I got it," he says, in wonder. "I was right."

"You were right," Eleanor says, and upon hearing the smile in her voice, Louis opens his eyes again to see her eyes crinkle into half-moons as she strokes him over the edge.

*

"Jes-- _Christ_ , El," Louis says, stopping short on his way to the bed. She's made it there ahead of him, after having dropped to her knees in the shower and sucked him off, then left him to finish cleaning himself up. She turns her head to look at him, already wearing the harness, and drags her hand up the length of her cock, gently, like she's having a lazy wank of her own. "Is that what it looks like for you, from here?"

She glances down at her hand and rubs it over the tip of her cock contemplatively. "I dunno," she answers. "Is this how you do it?"

"I'm a bit more enthusiastic about it, I like to think," Louis says, getting onto the bed next to her, but staying on his knees. He's thinking of how she'd touch him, now, how she touches this cock like she could hurt it but she's never that tentative with him, only ever teasing deliberately, only ever to hold off his orgasms.

"Faster?" Eleanor grunts, making a face, and speeds her fist up, a parody of come shots in pornography, and Louis stares at her cock and wishes, suddenly and fervently, that he could get hard again. It's not often he feels like she's got the only cock in the room.

"Why's this have to be such a production?" he wonders. "You could always just, like, move me where you want me."

"You could move there yourself," Eleanor suggests. "You can do what feels nice for _you_ ; you can try things, too." She grins, rolls her eyes. "That's allowed, you know."

"I've just-- I've never--" Louis licks his lips, unable to tear his gaze from her hand. "Don't normally think about going... reverse cowgirl on my girlfriend."

"Afraid you'll give me a dead leg?" Eleanor's still grinning, but she lets go of her cock to run her hand up the side of his arm, soothing. "There's nothing girly about it, yeah?" she adds, in a low voice, ducking her head to press her mouth up the path her hand just followed.

Louis wants to say that's not what he meant, that that's not what he's thinking, but the words get caught in his throat. It's not that he feels girly, like less of a man, when he submits to Eleanor; when he does what she asks, when she praises him. He doesn't feel like it when she opens him up or when she fucks him, even if he's flat on his back or on his knees. It's a silly thing, he knows, to let something like a name get to him, but he's never ridden before. He's never climbed on Eleanor's cock and used it like that, made it his, and suddenly he thinks he knows why Eleanor's making it a challenge for him. "Yeah," he says, eventually, but it sounds dismissive even to his own ears. "How do you want me to, uh," he shrugs and rubs his hands over his thighs, uneasy without her direction. "Shall I just--"

"Do what you like," Eleanor says, and sits up a bit, patting the space next to her, then between her legs on the harness. "Really. Just get yourself off. That's what I want from you."

"You first," Louis tells her, and he doesn't feel girly now, pulling Eleanor in by her waist. She comes easily enough, and he lifts her over him so that he can get one hand down between them. She's too narrow, too small to cover his body with her own, and he shifts until her thigh is pressed against his dick, her cock against his hip, and he stutters out a breath against her mouth. Louis drags the heel of his palm over the straps of the harness and wiggles his fingers inside the gap in the middle, dipping into her pussy enough to slick his fingers and then wet her clit, rubbing and pressing until she gasps and clutches at his other arm.

"You're-- you're eager," Eleanor sighs, her thighs spreading apart, and Louis follows her with his hips, rocking against her thigh and trying to grip her between his. He fucks her like that even though he's started to get hard again; he spreads her juices everywhere with his fingers, then pushes them inside her and grinds his palm against her clit. He holds her head with one hand in her wet hair as they kiss, curling his fingers as he pistons his hand, and she breaks the seal of their lips to tilt her head to the ceiling and come, shuddering with a groan deep in her throat.

Louis doesn't stop, and he thinks, with some satisfaction, that he's learned a bit about patience from her, rubbing his fingers inside Eleanor's pussy relentlessly until she's come again. He keeps going until she's shaking and digs her nails into his arm and pants, "stop, stop, jesus," until he's so hard he hurts.

He eases her down, withdraws his hand. His arm is aching from holding her up. "Well, if you can't take the heat, Els," he says, as flippantly as he can manage, sucking his fingers into his mouth and pretending the taste of her doesn't make his cock bob a bit.

"You can't be done already," Eleanor shoots back, her chest still heaving. "Are you just gonna finish like that?"

"It'd be easy, wouldn't it," Louis says, looking down as he takes himself in hand. He gives himself a couple of strokes, considering, then forces himself to slow down. Eleanor may have said he could do whatever he wanted to get himself off, but he knows it's not meant to be this. "I need your fingers," he says, peeling his own away from his cock, "you'll open me up, yeah?" and Eleanor's eyes go soft.

"Where do you want me?" she asks, as Louis reaches over her for the lube and condoms in the bedside table.

"Up against the headboard," Louis says, and upends the bottle of lube a bit over her fingers, rolls the condom over her cock. "Just, like--" he positions her carefully, sets her free hand to the side, widens the spread of her knees, and Eleanor watches him work silently, a small smile on her lips. He kneels back into the light brace of her hand on his hip with her cock pressed up against his back, and she works a finger into him until he's fully seated. He wriggles a bit to get accustomed, and then pauses.

"Um," he says. Eleanor keeps her finger still inside him, and he shifts up on it, experimentally. "I'm meant to show the class what I've learned, is that it?" he asks, looking at her over his shoulder.

"You're driving this, Lou," Eleanor tells him, in the same gentle tone she uses when she's gathering feedback on what she's doing to him. "What do you want? You want more? What angle?"

"Curl your finger down," Louis says, rocking his hips and leaning forward to check the angle. Eleanor curves her finger at once, but she doesn't apply any pressure and leaves him to push back on her. She's close to his prostate, just, just if he-- "yeah," he mutters when he finds it, seeking it out, putting one hand down on the bed to brace against. He's aware she's watching him, now, and it's a bit... he huffs a laugh at himself because he's not exactly performance-minded, but he can feel Eleanor's gaze on his arse and he realises he's going slower than she would, after he gets her finger rubbing him there a few times. He loves the feel of it, wants her fucking him like that, but not until he's mindless with it.

He looks down at himself curiously, tries to see if his dick does look any different when he feels like he gets that extra bit harder. He's wet at the tip of his cock, a drop of pre-come clinging, and knows if he keeps it up he'll be dripping before long. "Give me another finger," he says breathlessly.

She does, and he moans, sways back, twists his shoulders into the slight burn of his rim around her fingers. "You're so tight, Lou," Eleanor says, in a soft voice. 

He clenches around her fingers just to prove the point. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, and puts his other hand down, raising up on his knees. "Keep your fingers right there," he says, fucking himself against them, punishing in the slowness of his rhythm, because he could come just like this. "Can you see 'em, love," he gulps, "can you see where you're stretching me--"

"I can see where I have them bent in you," Eleanor answers, choked. "You're starting to sweat, sweetheart," she says, and he can feel it at his hairline, the dampness at his sideburns. She passes her hand over the small of his back, wiping at the sheen of sweat there; Louis dabs at the first drop of pre-come that stretches down to his thigh and decides he's had enough.

He reaches behind himself and strokes awkwardly at her cock, lifting himself off her fingers, feeling wet and open. "All right, okay," he says, voice cracking. "I still want this to last," and he lowers himself over the tip of her cock, feeling the pull on his skin, feeling it open him up. Eleanor would have made him wait for this, would have given him more fingers and made him beg, but Louis can't tease himself like that. It's good, but it burns, it's too much and Eleanor is so big, and he hunches his shoulders and tries to breathe, tries to sink down more slowly, his thighs shaking. "Fuck," he says, half a moan.

Eleanor stops him, moving her hand to his hip. "You look so good, just like that," she coos. "You need me to open you up more? Give you another finger?"

"I'm all right," he says, then, " _fuck_ ," and he squeezes his eyes shut until the head of Eleanor's cock is in and he can feel the sweet press of it against his prostate, the length of the shaft filling him up until he can't escape the stimulation. He takes her cock in deep and then leans forward, riding her in shallow thrusts that make him flush all over, turned on and knowing that he's on display for her, knowing that she's watching him take it. He's leaking against his stomach, onto his thighs, sweat dripping off the tips of his fringe and he feels suspended in his arousal, could end this with a few quick strokes of his dick.

His thighs are on fire. "I'm gonna come," he slurs, because it's still freeing to give up control to Eleanor, even as he edges his right hand closer to his cock.

Eleanor awkwardly bends down over him and presses her mouth to his spine. "Show me," she whispers, and he's slick with pre-come when he finally gets his hand round himself. It's even easier to toss off that way; twice, three times, and his thighs give out so he sits back hard on Eleanor as his orgasm hits, thick pulses of come he feels like he's been building up to forever.

Louis sags back against Eleanor, panting, and her arms come up to hold him around the middle. She presses the side of her face into his back and whispers things in a low voice, things meant to bring him back down, and he starts to become very aware again of all his aches and pains, the stretch of Eleanor's cock too much stimulation for him to take after he's come. He leans to the side, taking Eleanor with him, and crawls forward off her cock. It slips out of him with the faintest of tugs and he groans about it, feels sore and empty and utterly pleased with himself. He thinks there's a joke about taking it like a champ he's not yet ready to make.

Eleanor hovers low over him, breathing softly on the side of his face. She's checking up on him, he knows; he's shivering a bit and she throws the duvet over him and cuddles with him over it. "Was that something you'd like to do again?" she asks at last, and Louis puts his hand on her cheek, slides it up to pat over her hair.

"Forgotten how to talk," he murmurs. "You'll have to ask me again later."

Eleanor hums, hooking her chin over his shoulder as she settles back. "You could do two blinks for 'yes' and one for 'no'," she suggests.

Louis considers her offer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, then flutters his eyes closed.

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Louis sitting in Eleanor's lap on the Orient Express](http://love-passion-1d.tumblr.com/post/48781623598/elounor-with-louis-mum-and-her-fiance-at-the). With many thanks to disarm_d for the cheerleading!


End file.
